In the Eye of the Beholder
by jmkw
Summary: Jordan needs a change and goes looking for what's right under her nose.
1. Eggs and Ping Pong

Disclaimer: I don't own them; really don't want them for forever. They're like puppies. You have to clean up after them all the time.

This is something that has been kicking around in my head since October...well, some of it anyway.

* * *

The ping pong ball bounced back and forth, between the paddle and the wall, in a slow, steady staccato. 

_Ping...ping...ping..._

It took Woody three days after Calvin left to get his apartment back into its normal disarray. It took him three more weeks to stop feeling like he'd been sucker punched every time he walked in the door.

_Ping...ping...pong..._

The hair on the back of neck still went up when he thought about the evidence he 'buried'. It wouldn't be good for either he or Calvin if Cal's cell number had made its way to the DA's office. It would be his final favor. His last bail out. From now on the kid was on his own and Woody didn't care if the ground swallowed Cal up whole. As far as he was concerned, Calvin was just someone from his past. That part of his life that didn't count anymore...Woodrow Hoyt was no longer that guy from Wisconsin. He was a Bostonian now.

On a whim, he picked up the phone and smiled when it was answered on the third ring.

"Is there really a difference between brown eggs and white? ...God, look who I'm asking..."

"Hello to you too Jordan. Did I interrupt your quest to solve one of the great mysteries of the culinary world?"

"Hi," her voice softened. "I'm sorry about that. It's just...nothing. Hey, what's up?"

_Ping...ping...ping..._

"I was going to ask you the same thing,"

_Ping...ping...ping..._

"What is that noise?"

"Ping-pong. I was wondering if you'd like to split a pizza ...maybe catch a movie with me."

"Tonight?"

_Ping...ping...ping..._

"Unless you're working..."

"No..no, I'm off ...but, I'm busy. Maybe some other time?"

"Those pesky chicken issues?"

"Wha?...Oh no," she laughed. "I'm trying to cook this totally organic meal and I think I'm not cut out for the whole body-temple mindset."

"I always thought a few preservatives and pesticides added that certain something to the essence."

_Ping...ping...ping..._

"Well, I'm trying."

"Might I ask why this sudden urge to eat wisely?"

"I'm ...I'm making dinner for a friend."

A friend? "Really?" he asked brightly.

_Ping...ping...pong..._

He could almost hear her nodding.

"Who?" he said still trying to remain detracted.

"Um, Louis. You remember Louis..."

He didn't let her finish. "Jefferies? That agoraphobe nut job?"

_Ping...pong...Pong..._

"He's not a nut job Wood and I wish you'd stop calling him that."

"Jordan, he's as whacked as the people who call his stuff art."

"I have one of his prints."

_Pong...Pong...miss._

He sighed. "Jordan...nevermind. So, is he having a dinner party or something? And he sweet talked you into bringing him food?"

"Um, no. he's coming over here." she said offhandedly.

Woody couldn't sound as flippant. "Really?"

_PingPingPing._

"Louis is making a lot of progress battling his...condition. In fact, he's going to attempt to be present at opening of his new exhibit next week at The MASSMoCa."

"...at the _WHAT_?"

"Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Arts."

"...oh."

_Ping...pong...Pong..._

"He's been working almost non-stop since the murder. A hell of an inspiration, huh?"

"Sounds like you've kept in close touch..."

_Pong...Pong...miss._

"Not THAT close Woody," he could feel her rolling her eyes. "He's just a friend. Louis is a brilliant man. His insight on...everything still amazes me."

"...for a loon." he said under his breath. "Well, pizza and a movie can't compete with tofu and ink blots. Have fun."

_Ping...ping...pong..._

"Woody. I'd love to have dinner with you...but ...This weekend. We'll make a day of it. I promise...shit, I've gotta go; my risotto is cooking too fast. Call me..."

Like a flash she was gone.

"I always do." he replied to the dial tone.

_PONG._

The ping pong ball disappeared under the TV on the other side of the room.

Damn, he thought. It would take him a month to dig that out...and it was his last one.


	2. LIFE Life

Jordan reached in her pocket looking for change for the vending machine. She hadn't eaten much the night before. She still felt a little uneasy about her little egg substitution. The few bites she did take, she tried to find some mythical difference...nothing. Louis didn't seem to notice. In fact, he raved about her cooking ...but she still felt guilty even after he left. Now, she was just plain hungry.

"Garret!" she yelled as she came to his open door.

"Please don't tell me you're flying off to LA again..."

"Can't I just say 'hi'? Besides, I've used up all my frequent flyer miles...Actually, I need a little favor."

The way Jordan asked grabbed Garret's attention. Normally, she would just storm into his office say what was on her mind expecting him to automatically bend to her wishes...and damnit, most of the time he did. Garret just didn't like to admit the fact...even to himself.

"A favor?"

"I need to leave an hour early Thursday night. I'll come in early to make up."

Now his attention was totally peaked. Nothing was simple when it came to Jordan. It was a toss up between the two of them who put more hours in morgue each week. Taking an hour off wasn't the real issue and he could sense it.

Looking back at his paperwork he shrugged, "I don't see the problem. Might I ask why?"

Jordan paused, picking at the wrapper of her candy bar. "I'm going with Louis Jefferies to his exhibit opening over in North Adams. Black tie, funky food, you know the deal."

"Jefferies? Isn't he the guy..."

She cut him off, "Yeah..."

"But, I thought he never..."

Once again, she cut him off. "...he's working on it. That's why I'm going. He's a little anxious. I really need to be there...as a friend..."

"I already said it isn't a problem."

"...This is a real big deal for him. If this exhibit is well received he'll be taking it to New York...and that'll mean more publicity, more commissions..." Jordan rambled.

"Jordan... Why are you trying so hard to convince me of something I've already agree to?"

"I'm not." she said almost indignantly

Garret laughed softly and walked over to the sofa where she sat. "There is more to this then helping a friend. What's going on Jordan?"

"Garret, do you ever feel like life is just slipping through your fingers?"

"Every time I'm put on hold. Why?"

"No, I mean your_ life_ life. Do you ever feel like this place is all you have?"

Garret just smiled. She had hit a sore spot. One that had festered for so long, he couldn't remember when his life wasn't an endless cycle of 16 hour days and working weekends. He hadn't talked to his only daughter in months, but the idea of not interacting with his co-workers for that length of time made him more uneasy.

"These last few months have made me realize that I'm tired of living like this." Jordan waved her hand toward the door. "I knew I have you and everyone else and I do love you all...but, knowing Louis... I'm beginning to remember there is a world outside these walls...outside_ my_ walls. A world where there is beauty and light instead of just death. Louis asked me to go to this event as his date..."

"Really? I never realized you and he...Good for you Jordan."

Jordan laughed uncomfortably. "Louis and I aren't..."

"It's your business what you do and who you do it with after hours. It's just, I'm happy you're doing _something_ at least one of us is making a break for it. I don't envy you this...event though. The one good thing about not seeing Renee is not having to go to_ events_ like that.. Those "see and be seen" things used to make my teeth ache. By the end of the evening I was so tired of acting like I was interested in anything anybody was talking about, all I wanted to do was hang myself with my tie."

"Your appropriately tasteful tie," Jordan smirked.

"One that Renee checked and double checked to make sure I didn't wear it too close to the last time I wore it to whatever. Remember to nod at the right times and just smile a lot. You'll be fine. If it gets too painful claim you've been called in. It worked for me a few times until Renee caught on. I'll cover for you Thursday if anything comes up."

"Thanks Garret."

"Have fun. You deserve it."

"I plan too."

* * *

"Oh, you're back...I took some messages for you" 

Woody looked up from his desk to see Det. Roz Framus stroll into the bullpen. When Malden's replacement downsized them out of the offices with four walls, he claimed that it would help foster a better team aspect for the division. There would be no more mavericks...or conspiracy theorists. Anything in the name of efficiency. All in all, Woody didn't it mind that much...but the only thing that did get on his nerves from time to time was having to sit across from a smart ass.

"Would you stop answering my phone Roz!" Woody exclaimed reaching for his newspaper for the third time in as many hours.

"You're never here to answer it yourself Bucko. MASSMoCA called? They...and I quote...said, 'Thank you very much for your inquiry to this Thursday's opening but they are not looking for any additional security personal at this time.. but they are having a function next month and if you're still interested please give them a call during normal business hours in two weeks.' Hoyt, if you're that hard up for money that you're looking to take on a part time gig why didn't you say something?"

"It's not that Roz." Woody said opening his newspaper.

Framus leaned over his shoulder to see if he was _actually _reading the culture section from the morning paper. Her perfectly manicured eyebrow shot straight up. "Louis Jefferies? Isn't he the guy you tried to bust for the Perry murder last year? So, it's his party you want to crash?

"Nobody's crashing anything...and...and get your own paper."

"You and your personal space issues." When Roz perched herself on the edge of his desk, Woody refolded his paper. It was pointless to do anything when it didn't look like she was finished with him yet.

"I never pictured you as an aficionado of the abstract Hoyt. I pegged you as one of those 'If-it's-supposed-to-be-a-picture-of-a-tree-I-wanna-see-a-tree-damnit' types..."

It never ceased to amaze him how well Roz Framus could imitate his voice. He began to wonder if she did more than just answer his phone.

"If you wanted a ticket to the showing all you had to do is ask. I have connections, you know."

"I don't need of your favors Roz. Thanks anyway."

"You don't want to owe me," she chuckled. "You're smarter than you look sometimes Woodster. So, why the sudden interest in the contemporary art world? I've seen your case load. You've been spending most of your time cleaning up the streets one mobster at a time." She began to thumb through the files on his desk. "Are you holding out on us? "

He slapped her hand. "I don't see where it's any of your business."

"It's a woman...Thank. God. ...No wait. Please don't tell me it's a man. Oh no." Roz slapped her palms on the desk before she slumped dramatically over to her own desk. "That explains everything! I should have guessed. My roommate guessed. He asked for your number, but I told him...damn, just when you think you know somebody...BAM! So... Louis Jefferies is gay? Interesting. I thought he was just crazy. "

Woody rolled his eyes. "I'm not gay Roz, sometimes I think it would be easier if I was...but I'm not."

"Reggie might be willing to experiment a little with you." she teased. The expression she got in return told her to back off. "So, it's a woman. One of those artsy-fartsy types? High maintenance women are a pain in the ass to keep happy Hoyt. Trust me, I know." Roz reached across their desks toward Woody's newspaper. "...I know I am. What's her name...Is her picture in here?"

"Would you drop it Roz. I'm not going anywhere. It's just one night right? If she happy, who am I to stand in her way..."

"...right."

Roz looked at the younger man...really looked at him for the first time since she walked in the room. She had to admit he was ate up. That particular fact was obvious. But there was something else there. His normal cocky confidence was a little off kilter...and that fact concerned her more.


	3. Limos, Toilet Paper, and Cold Pizza

Paperwork was the bane of his existence...except for when it served as a valid excuse. The files he was delivering to Trace weren't pressing. In fact, they could have gone with the regular deliveries. He justified it by claiming to himself that the morgue was on his way home. It wouldn't be the first time he dropped something off after a long day. He's usually stop and hang out, maybe tonight wouldn't be an exception. It wasn't like Jordan was the only person up there. He could visit with friends. Maybe see if Nigel had anything cooked up. It wasn't like he was checking in to see if she changed her mind or anything...

The limo at the side entrance to the morgue not only stuck out, but raised a few eyebrows to the people passing...including Woody's. He stopped when the back window rolled down.

"Detective Hoyt, what a surprise."

The voice even sounded more cultured now that a goodly share of the fear had been erased. Woody turned to see Louis Jefferies smiling to him from the interior. It was hard not to feel a touch of pity for the man. Neuroses were hard to deal with and by all accounts it looked like what Jordan had said was true. Louis Jefferies had come a long way in the last few months. Manners dictated that Woody should shake the man's hand but the window was only down just so far.

"Mr. Jefferies." Woody said with an uncomfortable smile.

"Please call me Louis. I was never one for titles." Louis popped the lock of the door and opened it. "Do you have a minute?"

"...sure-ly." Woody climbed into the back of the car and sat across from his host. "Nice ride."

"The museum sent it. I would have rather taken a cab." His fingers tapped restlessly against the armrest. "That way we could arrive after the fracas started and leave before The Globe's art critic had his fifth glass of wine. The man is a lush. This way I'm stuck at their mercy."

Woody smiled in spite of himself. "I'm assuming your picking up Jordan here."

"Yes."

If he was surprised to hear Woody knew that Jordan was accompanying him that evening Louis didn't show it.

"...I told her one time and the driver got us here a few minutes early. I called, she's still changing. I'm glad to have somebody to pass the time with. Don't worry, I'll hold my hyperventilating for later. We kind of got off on the wrong foot last Fall. I understand why I was a suspect. In hindsight, I probably would have felt the same way. Jordan assured me you were only doing your job. She speaks very highly of you Hoyt."

Woody looked out the shaded windows of the car hoping he can end this conversation before Jordan walks out the entrance. It's one thing to happen to be hanging out in Trace and a totally different thing sitting in a car talking to her "date". He had some pride left. Not much, but some.

"Thank you..."

"Jordan tells me you two work quite frequently with each other."

"Yeah, I ..ah...We...ah...work...yes frequently. It's our job." Woody wanted to kick himself for being so tongue tied. What little pride he had flew right out the window.

Louis chucked. "Jordan is a very special woman. I haven't met anybody quite like her in a very long time."

"I really didn't think you got out much..." The little cut felt good.

Louis's chuckle turned into full blown laughter. "You make a very good point Detective. I mean even before... Jordan is genuine. She's had a life that only few could even imagine. I'm proud to admit she has become something of a muse for me these last few months."

"I didn't realize you were spending that much time together."

"Time is what you make it. Two people can spend years together and not know the first thing about each other...and others can spends minutes together and feel like they've known each other for a lifetime."

Woody begrudging had to admit what Louis was saying had a ring of truth to it. "You make a very good point."

"A beautiful woman from a humble, tragic background with a dream of fixing broken hearts...it's almost poetic."

"Broken hearts?"

"Do you think she was born a coroner Hoyt? Jordan is a woman outside of that office. She has thoughts and dreams that have nothing to do with her present career. Did you know she was going to be a cardiothoracic surgeon? She spent so many years working toward a single goal, only to face her own mortality to survive to continue looking for her own way in the world. She inspired me to find the courage to take a chance on life again."

About the only thing Jordan inspired Woody to do was either shake some sense _in_ her or kiss her _senseless_. Neither of which he ever felt was the right time to do. It made Woody wonder how well he really knew her. Not as well as Jefferies apparently. Like he said some people connect completely...others don't.

"You know, I really need to get going," Woody said holding out his hand. "It's been...a pleasure talking to you again ...Louis. Congratulations on the new showing, I hope it's a success..."

"Thank you Detective Hoyt. You didn't know how much it means for me to hear you say that."

They both knew they weren't talking about the painting. After spending the last few minutes dancing around the subject Woody saw the look in Louis's eyes. He was the victor in this round and Woody wasn't. At least for now.

After an awkward second Woody cleared his throat and left the vehicle. He strode back to his own and tossed the file in the passenger seat. He'd just send it out in the regular traffic in the morning. He wasn't up to Nigel's all knowing , all seeing stare. Not this time.

* * *

Jordan used Lily's hand mirror to try and catch herself at all angles in the mirror above the locker room sink. The deep V neckline of her slim black cocktail dress laid perfect down her back but the front had a few issues. She debated for a moment and disappeared into the stall returning a few second later with a handful of toilet paper. After few well placed sheets she reexamined herself in the mirror. 

"Well, what do you think?"

"Wow, Jordan you look beautiful." Lily smiled broadly. "It's just..."

"What? I knew I should have picked up one of those Wonder bra things." Jordan cringed pointing at her faintly augmented chest.

"Yes, no. It just I've never seen you dressed up like this before."

"I admit my favorite place to shop is Goodwill, but a girl has to grow up once in awhile...right?"

Lily looked at Jordan like she had just found the Holy Grail. "Don't tell me you got that at Goodwill?"

"Oh God no, I got it at Saks...but on the half off rack. Even then, I'll be eating peanut butter and jelly every night this month to make rent. Is it too...much?"

The black dress was so understated that it screamed class and culture. If only she had some pearls...

"No, it's perfect Jordan. I just can't believe you're really going to this ..thing. It's not like you. They'll be dignitaries and politicians there...not to mention your Grandmother."

"I already checked. She's not going." Jordan smirked.

"It's not too late to change your mind and forget about caviar and chardonnay and go out with us for pizza and beer...Nigel, Bug and I are going bowling. We could use a fourth. Bowling shoes would look darling with that dress."

"Thanks," she laughed. "I did pizza this weekend with Woody." she rolled her eyes. "Pizza and a movie ended up being two matinees and take out. We couldn't agree on which movie to see, so we went to both. By the time we stopped for pizza, we were both so stuffed with popcorn we ended up splitting it and taking it home to eat later. My stomach still hurts...not to mention the brain cells that died watching whatever the hell it was he wanted to see. All I remember was fake boobs and lots of sophomoric humor."

"You had fun though didn't you?"

"A little," Jordan smiled softly as she reapplied her lipstick. "I'd really like to go out with you guys...You know that. Just...some other night. Tonight, I want to..."

"You want to what?" Lily squinted at her.

"Eat fish eggs and drink obnoxiously priced wine while people oo and ah over Louis's new work," Jordan smiled.

"You've been seeing a lot of him lately, haven't you?" Lily asked with a not-so-innocent smile. "I've seen pictures of him. He's kinda cute in that bohemian kinda way."

"He is, isn't he?" Jordan smiled.

"So, are you going to see more of him?"

"Let me get through this date first. I don't know, maybe? We always seem to enjoy the times we've spent together. I feel like I can tell him anything and he won't judge me."

_...Or try to save me from myself_. Jordan didn't add the last. She didn't want to think about where the thought came from. Not now. Not tonight.

"If you're asking me if I'm going to sleep with him...I don't know. A few years ago, I would have said sure. I'm different know and some things are more important then they used to be." Grabbing her bag and looking one last time in the mirror she winked at Lily. "I promise if I do I'll be careful...and I'll take notes."

Lilly just laughed.

Amazingly, Jordan realized she was leaving right on time. On the elevator ride down to the lobby, she couldn't remember the last time she was on time for a date. Just last weekend she left Woody standing in front of the movie theater for an hour. It took her longer to find her dress for tonight than she thought. But going out with Woody wasn't like going out on a date. There wasn't any of those will he or won't he questions when it came time to say goodnight. Just two friends hanging out. She shook her head. She had spent too much time thinking about him lately. Maybe that's why she could have sworn she saw his car pull out of the parking lot just as she came out the building entrance. Jordan was still looking toward the street when she heard a car door open. She felt like a fool that she didn't notice the big black limousine sitting directly in front of her. She smiled when Louis came up the steps to meet her. Jordan angled her cheeks to receive his continental greeting.

"You look beautiful Jordan."

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Shall we?"

"Of course..." Without looking back out to the street, Jordan climbed into the back of the car.

* * *

Woody went back to the precinct. Spending the night alone in his apartment with a microwave dinner and a baseball game normally sounded like heaven, tonight it just sounded pathetic. 

His ego was bruised. Not destroyed like he first thought when he stepped out of the limo...just bruised. On his drive back, Woody realized he had a leg up on Jefferies. One that the man reminded him of himself. He worked _frequently_ with Jordan. Something Jefferies had no control over, but with a little help from his friends, it was something Woody could manipulate in his favor. Jefferies might claim quality time, but Woody would be damned if it was both quality and quantity.

He needed to eat and there was some cold pizza in the break room. Cold pizza is one thing but five day old cold pizza is another. Woody tossed the last slice in the trash with a sigh. There had to be a law against wasting pizza. There had to be. Just like thereshould bea law against chicken on pizza.

"Are you still here Hoyt, I thought you would have been hobnobbing with the Mayor by now." Roz drawled from the doorway

"Excuse me?"

"The Jefferies Exhibit? Isn't it tonight?" she asked pouring herself a cup of cold coffee.

"I already told you I'm not going." he said turning his attention away from Roz and his empty stomach and poured himself a cup. "I've got some work to catch up on anyway..."

"This is the homicide division. There is always work to do. Are you trying to suck up to the Lieutenant again? He left an hour ago."

"I might as well impress somebody," Woody laughed.

"It's the High Maintenance chick again huh?"

"She's not that high maintenance Roz. In fact, I just saw Jefferies on his way to pick her up earlier."

"As his date?"

Woody just shrugged. Jordan told him Sunday that she was going as a friend. Because he needed her...but the way she talked about him. It's not like Woody had any say. They were friends. More like family. He remembered what Cal said. "Like a sister." Jordan had joked about...they both had really.

"...oh, bummer."

Roz voice snapped his attention back the present.

"The more I think about the more I'm convinced it really doesn't have anything to do with her...or him for that matter. I think it's more me. How long have you known me Roz?"

"Is this a trick question Hoyt. Because if it is, I've had a long day and I'm not in the mood to play games."

Woody just blinked twice letting Roz know the question was serious.

"Long enough I guess," she sighed "Why? "

"How would you describe me?"

"In effort to get out of here at a decent hour I'll say, you're a good cop. A little cocky at times..but good."

"I don't mean work..I mean as a person..."

"We don't exactly hang in the same circles Woodster...but you're...sweet in you're own way. You have that boy scout charm that I guess is endearing...if that's what's you into. Did your Biorhythms come out whacked this week or something?"

"Or something. You were right when you said I don't understand art. My idea of good music is a Kinks tune on the radio, not box seats at the symphony. Haute Cuisine is just something The Chairman says in the beginning of 'Iron Chef' ..."

"I love that show..." Roz cut in. "..but actually he says _"Allez Cuisinez!"_ which means_...Go chef_...but I get the point."

"That's what I mean. I'm hopelessly lost when it comes to ...that stuff."

"...and you're feeling like you're missing something? Trust me, I've seen Jefferies work. Insightful maybe, but you know what they say Hoyt; it's all in the eye of the beholder'. Me, myself. I have a velvet painting of Elvis in my place. There is no telling in taste. Jefferies' taste aims more for a bunch of losers, who think they knew it all, that are searching for something that they think just outside of their grasp. Nine times out of ten they're sitting on whatever they think they're missing out on and are just too worried somebody might tell them they don't belong if they go for it. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with having different views. It's what makes us all individuals. We grow and develop. That's human nature. On the other hand, we'll always basically be who we are. You've been in police work long enough to know that a tiger can't change his stripes. We adjust and make changes to accommodate our situations. But it's an unrealistic expectation to change your personality completely...Especially, to _impress_ _some chick._ You are who you are Hoyt, and if that's not what she thinks she wants than not only is she not worth it...she's a fool."

"I never thought I was one of your favorites Roz." Woody smiled.

"You're still not...so don't get a big head. I'm just saying don't give up but don't give in either...You're worth it. Which reminds me, I need to make an appointment to get my hair done."

Roz manly scribbled on a sheet of paper and grabbed her bag. "Well, it's been fun bonding with you Hoyt . Let's not make a practice of it...and don't stay here all night. It makes the rest of us look bad. "

Maybe salisbury steak and 'Baseball Tonight' didn't sound so pathetic at all. Jordan said she was going to this party as a friend...and after spending years of going out with her as _a friend,_ Woody felt like he, out of anybody, know what Jefferies could expect from the evening. He just hoped their cosmic connection didn't take them back to Jefferies place.

* * *

_I am so not happy with this chapter. I started, stopped, rewrote, reengineered, questioned, threw out, reorganized, rehashed, added to, chopped off, and basically gave up on it. It still sucks. I suddenly remembered why I don't write these things anymore. I can't get from Point A to Point B without Axis X, Y, and Z giving me grief along the way. Hopefully it'll all make sense when it's said and done._


	4. MASSMuCA

The music being piped through the sound system at the exhibit reminded Jordan of how much sleep she's had in the last week...or more to the fact, lack of it. She slowly laid her head on Louis's shoulder making a mental note to ask the curator for a copy of the CD. She could use it for her next bout of insomnia. She straightened up when yet another patron approached them. Louis whispered softly that this was the infamous art critic as he shifted from foot to foot. Jordan flashed what she hoped was a charming smile.

"You're palette is softer in this collection Louis. Interesting, very interesting...and who might this be?"

Jordan's mouth arched into a rehearsed smile at the Boston globe art critic, who, true to Lois's prediction, was well past his fifth glass of wine. Louis placed a hand on her back and introduced her. She unconsciously leaned in to give her support. She knew the last couple hours had been taxing for the acrophobic. He subtly reached out to her when he needed her support.

"Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh, from the Medical Examiner's office?"

Jordan's smile turned into a nod. It wasn't the first time that question had been asked that evening. Jordan's own notoriety had caused a minor buzz in a crowd that needed something to liven it up as far as she was concerned.

"Yes."

"Interesting, interesting..." the critic mumbled when he realized his glass was empty. "If you'll excuse me..."

Louis laughed to himself as he relaxed with the added personal space and whispered in her ear, "I can see the headers under the pictures in the paper now: _Eccentric local artist set the inner circle on their ears this evening at his MASSMuCa opening by attending with the beautiful medical examiner, Jordan Cavanaugh, in his arm. The sexy coroner added a certain fascination to the event for many of attendees..._"

His hand moved from the curve of her waist over the back of dress to cup the back to cup the exposed line of her neck, Jordan fought a growing discomfort. It's not like he hadn't touched her face before. Louis Jefferies was one of those touchy people. Even with all his issues, Louis was very tactile. She assumed it was the artist in him. Even in the few times they had been together ,Jordan was used to him brushing back her hair or touching the back of her hand, but that was in more casual locations like his studio or even the park. That evening she was hypersensitive. She chalked it up to the fact that he was not only the center of attention, but the closeness of they way they were standing all evening. She was there to be his life line. It was the whole reason she agreed to do this. Or was it? When Jordan could feel the brush of his pant leg through the thin silk of her skirt, she began to pull away...

"Louis...I"

There was a loud laugh from the other side of the room as more people began to arrive. Louis pulled away from her stiffly. Jordan stopped thinking about her own discomfort for a moment to notice the thin veneer of his control was starting to slip.

"Louis, are you alright?"

He smiled uncomfortably and looked at his watch again. "You know, we've been on display long enough. I think it's time to go if you are ready."

"...surely."

As gracefully as they could, Louis and Jordan slipped through the crowd toward the exit. Louis stopped to ask security if they could find his car and driver while Jordan looked out the windows toward the drive.

"Jordan."

From the glass lined entrance way, Jordan turned to see Renee Walcott calling out to her. It was still a little unnerving to not to hear a note of total distain echoing in it.

"Renee...I didn't realize you were here."

"I just arrived a few minutes ago. Just between you and I, I'd rather be home wearing my slippers right now instead of this girdle. Whoever said you can snap back from childbirth in a matter of weeks never had a child over forty."

"You look beautiful Renee..."

"Thank you for the compliment. I have to admit I surprised to see you here..."

"I'm just getting ready to leave right now..."

"Jordan..." From the security station, Louis walked over and wrapped an arm around Jordan's waist. "Ms. Walcott, what an honor to have you here."

"Mr. Jefferies," Renee said looking between the two before holding her hand out. "It's nice to finally meet you under more pleasant circumstances. I've been looking forward to this evening all week."

"We'll see how pleasant the circumstances are after this weekend's review in The Globe." Louis said politely but still craning his head around Renee to look for the car.

"Are you leaving?"

"I...I have some work to take care of..."

Jordan piped in as Louis began to sweat. "...besides my feet are killing me. New shoes."

Louis held out his hand again. "The car is here Jordan. Ms Walcott...it was a pleasure to meet you again. Please enjoy yourself and I look forward to hearing your opinions someday. Jordan shall we..."

Waiting just long enough for Renee to say her goodbyes, Jordan let Louis usher her outside and into the limo. She reached for a bottle of water out of the mini bar.

"Here."

After taking a long drink he said, "Thanks. I'm so sorry about that Jordan. Sometimes I think I have it mastered and then it just sneaks up out of nowhere."

"It's alright Louis. You did great. That was a lot of pressure for anybody." She kicked her shoes off as the car pulled away from the museum. "...And my feet _do _hurt."

As Louis regained his composure in the enclosed space, he wordlesly pulled Jordan's legs across his lap and began to massage her feet. The driver intercommed back to ask where they were going. Louis started to say Pearl Street and changed his mind sending them to his high-rise.

"I thought maybe we could have a drink and relax, unless you'd rather call it an evening." Louis's touch turned light as her stroked his hands over her ankles.

Drinks. At least the was a euphemism she was used to. Jordan knew all she had to do was open her mouth and the limo would be dropping her at her place...alone, with no questions asked...and no regrets. From the moment she had met him there was something there, an attraction that they both could have explored months ago. Then they got to know each other There was always the unspoken invitation from him that said he's be more then willing to have something more with her. More than just scratching that proverbial itch...but it would only be under her terms. It was an in-your-face connection that she never felt before. She just wanted a perfect evening. Something special. From all accounts, this was a successful evening for Louis in many ways. Why not tonight?

How long had it been? If anything she was passed due. And this talented, educated, urbane man was what she wanted.

"No," Jordan smiled. "Relaxing drinks sound like just what the doctor ordered."

By the time they arrived downtown Jordan was as nervous as a girl on her prom night. Just an hour ago she was ready to fall asleep now she was wired for sound. In the months following the Perry case she had visited Louis a number of times. Enough so that the night doorman greeted her by name. Once in the elevator Jordan stared at the numbers counted the floors to Louis's floor.

1...2...3...4...

The closer they got the more she felt the walls close in. The urge to run was almost over whelming. Her fingers traced the shape of her phone in her small evening bag.

Star 4.

Star 4 and Woody and she could escape if she wanted to. Only if she wanted too...and she didn't. Speed dials 1-3 would work too. The morgue switchboard, Garret's office and Garret's cell. After all, he had given her an out. Her fingernail tapped at the case. How did Woody's number become Star 4? She called the Chinese place around the block from the office more then she called him and it didn't even rank a button. Her foot began to tap with her fingers. Why didn't she suggest a late dinner instead of agreeing to "drinks"?

She didn't realize the elevator doors were open.

"Four? No, it's the tenth floor. Jordan, are you alright?"

Louis's voice made her jump. Jordan blushed, "I'm sorry, just thinking out loud I guess." She looked up when he held out his hand to her. With an apologetic smile, she took it. Woody is the last person she wanted to think about right now. He was her safety net...one that sometimes didn't feel so safe.

Lately, more then ever.

"If you'd rather..." His hand was warm. A chill went up her back. She told herself that was a good thing.

"I'm fine."

"Good."


	5. A Hundred Questions and Only One Answer

"Make yourself comfortable. I think I've have a bottle of wine in the kitchen."

Louis tossed his jacket onto a side chair and he disappeared into the other room. It was oblivious his comfort level had fully returned the second they crossed the threshold into his apartment. Jordan, on the other hand, paced studying pictures and mementos that she had seen on previous visits. Each one had a story, one which Louis was always opened to telling. She picked up a photo of him in front of the Pantheon in Rome. It was taken while he spent a year studying art abroad. They laughed about what a small world it was when they realized they had been there at the same time...and wondered if they had passed each other on the street one day.

'_Back then I thought life is a series of combined events that lead you down a defined path...'_ he had once told her. _'I believed that fate opens doors good and bad and it's our job to take them and let the chips fall where they may. It was only years later that I realized there was no safety in that...and no guarantees. I guess the older I get I like to predetermine my own destiny. Just like you Jordan...'_

"I hope you don't mind that Pinot Noir we had the other night." Louis returned holding two goblets of red wine. "After an evening of a white wine, that was so overly chilled to hide how cheap it was, I felt up to a change."

As long as it's strong. Jordan just smiled and said thank you as she sank down in the sofa next to him where he had made himself comfortable.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that that is over. We should plan a vacation together. Some place quiet and secluded, where we can recharge. You said you wanted to revisit Italy again. Maybe we can rent a villa in Tuscany. The light there is beautiful in the summer. What do you think?"

"...ungodly hot too, I bet."

Vacation? Together? Jordan was still trying to figure out if she should spend the night. She flippantly commented on Italy thinking it might be...exciting to find Paolo again. She took a deep breath and downed half her glass.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you've done for me Jordan. Without your help I could have never have made it tonight."

"You're welcome." she choked. The wine was stronger then she remembered.

"Are you sure you're alright Jordan? You've been on edge since we left the museum. Here. Turn around."

Louis reached out to massage her shoulders when Jordan reluctantly turned her back to him. She had to admit he had good hands. Being an artist, she half expected it...just as she half hoped he'd be good with other things too. Jordan let her eyes drift shut.

"Relax; you're as stiff as a board..."

Her eyes snapped back open when she felt his lips on the back of her neck. This was what she came here for wasn't it? Wasn't this the right moment to explore something new? To branch out? ...To find love? If this is what she wanted...no, what she _needed?_ Then why did she feel like she want to run as far away as she could as fast as her legs could take her? She could feel his fingers find the top of the zipper on her dress.

Her heart stopped.

Christ, she had toilet paper in her bra.

"You do look very lovely tonight Jordan."

Why was she doing this? Why did she get a dress that didn't fit? Why did she go to a party she would have normally never been caught dead at? Why did she spend the last few days dwelling over eggs? And the biggest question of all...why was she trying so desperately to make something out of nothing? Love wasn't supposed to be this hard. It was supposed be as easy.

Like...fighting over a five dollar matinee and ordering a pizza to go.

"Eggs!" she blurted.

"What?"

"Eggs. I have a confession to make. The recipe said to use brown eggs in the quiche I made the other night. I used white. I'm sorry."

"I don't understand. Eggs...?"

"Honestly, I didn't think there'd be a difference."

"I don't think there is one Jordan...other then the variety of chicken. I never actually thought about it before Jordan. I don't think there's really any difference at all."

"I have been thinking about it, probably way too much for my own good, and I've decided there is a difference ..._a big difference._ One that I can't ignore anymore...one matter how badly I want to. I'm sorry."

"We're not really talking about eggs...are we?"

"I don't need villas in Tuscany in the middle of summer Louis. And you know what? I don't need guarantees. I need...I need plain old, everyday, take-for-granted-that you'll-always-find-them white eggs."

"Jordan..."

"I need 'Ordinary' Louis. I need what I already have...I just never realized it before. I have a family of friends who love for me and not what I can be for them. I care about you Louis. I really do, but..."

"Shhh Jordan, I understand."

"I'm just trading my walls for yours. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry."

"So am I."

Jordan ran a hand down the front of her dress and grabbed her bag. She felt like a load and been taken off her shoulders. For a brief second everything was crystal clear.

"Good bye Louis," she said holding her hand out.

Louis ignored her hand and kissed her cheek softly. "You're wrong Jordan. Those walls of yours disappeared a long time ago. You're just the last one to realize it."

With a smile he stepped away, looking less disappointed then Jordan's ego would have liked. "If you ever change your mind you know where to find me..."

She nodded and quietly slipped out the door. Once in the elevator she pulled the toilet paper from her bra and triumphantly tossed in the trash can under the control panel. Unconsciously, she reached for her cell and was about to press Star 4...when she stopped. Like the images in that vivid dream that the alarm clock always rudely interrupts, that momentary clarity began to fade as she rode the elevator down to the lobby.

"Dr Cavanaugh," The door man said as the doors opened. "Mr. Jefferies had me to call you a cab. It should be her shortly if you'd like to have a seat by the door..."

It would be so easy to climb back into her self imposed seclusion and say she tried...but would that make her any better than she was before. They were kindred spirits, she and Louis. Both had their "prisons" they needed to escape. Hers had four walls just like his. Louis said she gave him the strength to walk out of his...Maybe, just maybe Louis was right and her walls were gone. She knew the urge to hide wasn't there. In fact, she felt like celebrating. With a laugh she decided she wanted the biggest omelet Boston had to offer: a _white _egg omelet with a ton of processed cheese and a gallon of coffee...with a touch of caramel. The only question left was... would she have to eat it alone?

* * *

_Angsty little chapter I know. Every time I touched it it got more so. :( It'll get better later... I promise. ;)_


	6. What Are You Doing Here?

When the cab pulled up in front of Woody's building, Jordan looked around the all but deserted street and realized just how late it was. The clock on the cabby's dash it said it was well after midnight. She hoped he was still awake.

...and alone.

"Do you want me to wait until you're inside ma'am?" the cabby asked in broken English. "This isn't a good place for a lady like you to be walking around in the middle of the night."

Jordan's lips twitched at the cabby's comments. Dressed like she was, he had no idea that her own place was in a rougher neighborhood. All he knew was that he picked up a fare from one of the most exclusive areas of town and brought her downtown to an older blue collar district.

"I'll be fine," she smiled handing him a big tip on top of the one Louis's doorman had already paid him. "Thank you."

The cabby slowly drove away as Jordan climbed the stairs into the building. Her heels echoed in the stairwell as she climbed to the fourth floor. By the time she reached his door she realized how he kept in shape. She picked a pebble out of her strappy heals and wiggled her toes. The idea of carrying laundry up and down those stairs would be enough to make Jordan consider moving. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

* * *

Brewers lost; Soxs lost; Bucks lost and Celtics win. Thank God he wasn't a betting man. 

Woody finished cleaning up the mess of his chips and salsa dinner and tried to concentrate on balancing his checkbook. He had it squared away three days ago but it didn't hurt to double check. It was mindless work that kept his mind occupied...especially when the brouhaha to the museum was over an hour ago. They were forecasting rain. Jordan's windshield wipers needed to be replaced. He told her that every time he rode in that pile of junk she called a vehicle...not that he rode in it often. He didn't have a deathwish. Maybe he should call her and see if she needed a ride home...even if he had to listen to her complain about his own classic all the way.

Woody shook his head and focused on the column of numbers in front of him.

She could take a cab into work in the morning to pick the Camino up...or he could swing by and drive in...if it started raining of course.

It was fruitless to even try and concentrate on something as mundane as his check book. He gave up. Polishing off the last drag of his beer he tossed the bottle in the trash and pulled his shirt off heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He brushed his teeth swearing to himself that he'd get a real life...starting tomorrow. He had just turned off the lights when there was a knock on the door. It was after midnight. Nobody knocked on somebody's door after midnight. The first thought that went through his head was that Cal was back. Cal won't show his face up here again. He should just let whoever it is find somebody else to pester. Curiosity got the best of him and he cracked open the door cautiously.

"Jordan!" His mind immediately registered the rumpled cocktail dress and tired makeup. "What are you doing here?"

"Would you believe I'm in the need for a late night munchy fix?"

"Not really."

"May I at least come in?"

Woody opened the door to let her in. "Ah, make yourself comfortable...I guess..." he said disappearing into the bedroom. He returned a few seconds later with a fresh shirt.

"It's after midnight Jordan."

"So it is," she said looking around. With a flash of consciousness, Jordan realized she had never seen the inside of Woody's apartment before. Funny that she could be friends with someone for so long and never made the effort to see where they called home...

"My God, you do have a ping pong table in here."

"I picked it up last winter," Woody said grabbing a week's worth of junk mail off the surface. If he knew she was stopping by he would have at least picked up a little. "What are you doing here? Are you drunk?"

"No."

"Car broke down?"

"No," she repeated picking up his signed Gaylord Perry baseball.

"Then what are you doing here?" Woody was quickly growing uncomfortable with Jordan's one answer conversation. She was up to something. He pulled the ball from her hands and put it back on the bookshelf...only higher this time.

"I was going out for a bite to eat and I was wondering if you'd like to join me. My treat of course, but you're driving."

"It's after midnight Jordan."

"So you've said before. You know I'm not a morning person. Breakfast is better in the middle of the night."

"I assume your date at least fed you or he's a bigger jackass than I thought he was." Jordan rolled her eyes. He ignored her and kept on talking. "You're not here to critique my interior decorating style and I know you hate riding in my rickety old car as much as I hate riding with you driving..."

"That piece of shit you drive is rickety Woody."

"As I was saying, unless Jefferies' fancy ass limo got lost...why are you here instead of there Jordan?"

Jordan's eye narrowed slightly, "How did you know he had a limo?"

Woody cleared his throat. "Why wouldn't he? Let me worn you, if you got dumped and want someone's shoulder to cry on you're barking up the wrong tree. I'd be too tempted to say 'I told you so'."

Jordan self-consciously straightened the neckline of her dress and asked herself why clothes fit so much better when you are in the changing room at the store than they do when it's too late to take them back.

"Yeah," she pretended to snap her imaginary gum. "I wouldn't help him study for his third period anatomy test so he dumped me...Give me a break Hoyt."

Unruffled, Woody said, "So...you dumped him."

Jordan's month opened and closed repeatedly. She began to think maybe this was a big mistake. "There was no 'dumping' involved Woody. I just..._It_ just dawned on me that I don't make a good accessory."

"Did he tell you that?"

"Do you want to go out for breakfast or not?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Neither did you."

"Louis was a gentleman...like he always is. You'd be surprised what a nice guy he can be Woody."

"A paragon of virtue I'm sure. If he's so great then why are you standing in the middle of my apartment, in the middle of the night, asking me out for breakfast? I'm sure he's as good of a cook as he is a guy. Unless I'm totally out in left field and Roz is right I'm sure he would have been more than happy to make you breakfast...or where there too many strings for you?"

"You now what, never mind. I'll call a cab and let you get some sleep."

As she turned to leave he stopped her. "Jordan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." Much. "I'll drive you home. Just let me get my keys."

* * *

_I'm sorry to leave it like this but I wanted to get something up sooner than later. I figure one more chapter and it'll be done. _


	7. Freezer Dried Eggos

Woody murmured a slight prayer of thanks when his old car started on the first try. He'd been meaning to get it fixed, but it always ended up low on his to-do list. The drive to Jordan's apartment was relatively quiet. He couldn't help but wonder if he had gone too far. It's not like it was the first time that he was jealous because of her. He doubted it would be the last. At this point, Jordan would usually make a joke about his posturing and leave it at that. This time he couldn't tell if she was ready to kick him where it counts with her pointy shoes or cry. It's times like this he'd almost prefer the pain. 

At the red light he turned to her for the umpteenth time since they walked out of his apartment. "Jordan...I don't know what went down tonight and I really don't want to know...but I'm sorry I reacted like I did."

"You can drop me off in front of my building. I can walk myself up."

He pulled over but stopped her before she could climb out of the car.

"Did he...?"

"Take advantage of me?" Jordan let out a very unladylike snort. "No farmboy, my honor is intact if that's what you're worried about. To tell you the truth, I didn't stick around long enough to find out."

He winced. He had asked the question and unfortunately got a straight answer for once...

"I'll walk you up."

"I said can walk myself up."

"It wasn't a question."

Too drained to argue, Jordan just shrugged. She was daydreaming about a long hot shower and a not-so-short cold beer as they walked to her door.

"Goodnight Jor..."he started , he could tell she wasn't listening. "Yeah, well...see you around." Half down the hallway he turned around. "Are you sure you're alright?"

His question snapped her out of her momentary paralysis. "Ah..." she blinked "Yes, I'm fine. Good night Woody.

Woody waited where he stood for the door to click behind her. He didn't turn until he heard the dead bolt flip. He rode the elevator down. Jordan had gone out of her way, in the middle of the night, to ask him out for breakfast. Was _breakfast_ her way to reach out to him? How many times had he let her shut him out? Had he stopped counting to the point of being desensitized to them?

With a long suffering sigh he pressed the elevator up button.

Jordan couldn't what itched worse; the ruts in her scalp left over from the handful of bobby pins that had found a temporary home in the bowl of bathroom sink or the curve of her buttock from the spandex of the panty hose that now permanently resided in the wastebasket underneath said sink. She scratched both after she pulled and an old tank and a pair of shorts. The shower could wait a few minutes but her thirst couldn't.

She dug through the endless containers of decaying leftovers in her refrigerator to find one of the handful of bottles left over from her pre-alfalfa-sprout days. Irregardless of her argument with Woody she still felt liberated. Maybe antsy would be a better word. So antsy that she jumped a mile in the air when there was a knock on her door.

A quick check of the clock on her microwave proved that is was way past a sensible time to pay a social call. She snorted at the irony.

"Like the kettle..."she mumbled as she checked the peephole. Even though she knew it could only be Woody standing outside her door, she was still a little surprised. "Did that _classic_ you drive finally die on you?"

Woody took in the changed clothes and fresh scrubbed face. This was the Jordan he knew and...

Despite his mood, he stifled a laugh. "No, I was going to ask if you were still up for breakfast but I see you've changed...your mind."

She probably should still be hurt. She was a girl after all. It was her right. But seeing his uncomfortable smile, she resolved it was also her feminine prerogative to change her mind. "There is nothing more pathetic than to sit in the corner booth of the local all night greasy spoon, wearing a last season Marc Jacobs and wolfing down a five egg Spanish omelet all alone."

"It depends on if you have the silver dollar pancake side with it." Finding an opening, he asked, "May I come in?"

Jordan held the door open for him. "Woody, I need to apologize for..."

"No, no you don't," he corrected her. "I acted like a jerk. I don't blame you for getting defensive."

Casually locking the door behind him she said, "Let's call it a draw, okay?"

"Start over?" He flashed her an innocent smile.

"Sure."

"So," he started...shoving his hands in his pockets. "Did you have a good time at the party?" Keeping the indifference in his voice was proving to be a challenge.

She smiled enjoying his discomfort. "It was interesting. I met quite a few interesting people there. Thirsty?"

"Um, sure...unless you're still up for breakfast..."

Jordan handed him a bottle from her fridge. "Where can you buy a big breakfast and a beer in this town?"

Woody looked at the beer oddly. "I think they have laws against that...at least some ethical rules..."

"How 'bout I treat you to breakfast right here? I think I've got something in here..."

Jordan dug through her refrigerator. It wasn't looking good. With a snap of his fingers she reached inside the freezer and pulled out an ancient box of Eggo waffles. "It's not a four egg Spanish omelet but these things rock with a little bit of cinnamon sugar..."

Woody looked at the box wearily, but not as wearily as he looked at Jordan. Twenty minutes ago she was barely speaking to him on she was 'cooking' him breakfast. Normally not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Woody still couldn't help but wonder what was really going on with her. Taking a tentative sip out of his beer he said, "Sounds...yummy."

"Don't sound so convinced. I might think your being facetious," Jordan said in a light but slightly sarcastic tone. It didn't stop her from loading the first batch in the toaster.

Teasing tones aside Woody put his full bottle down next to Jordan's half empty one. "Jordan, what's really going on here? You are busying around here wired for sound..."

To prove his point Jordan used her fingertip to test the edge of the waffle while it was still in the toaster and accidentally touched the hot metal. "Why would you think something's going on..." she mumbled semi intelligibly with her finger in her mouth.

"Nothing. So Eggos huh? I thought you were trying a new healthier diet," he said in that matter-of-fact, dry reporter kind of way.

"Yes, well like I said I'm not cut out for that whole gig. Butter?"

"Real?"

"Organic..."

"Good enough."

Woody sat down at the end the kitchen counter while she finished fixing his plate. When she set in down in front of and simply took a seat he looked at her in question. "What about you?"

"I had my sights set on eggs not Eggos, besides the other two in the box look older than that ice man they found in that Canadian glacier a few years back."

Woody took a mouth and savored the favor before cutting a second forkful. "Well, if I'm facing a case of food poisoning in the morning I might as well have company," he smiled holding out the fork for her. He expected her to laugh...tell him he was crazy...slap his shoulder and grab something out of her refrigerator. Instead she leaned or and opened her lips wrapping them slowly around the steel tip of the fork. When she sat back he could have sworn she licked her lips.

In actuality, she quickly slipped the waffle off the folk with her teeth and murmured something about maybe more cinnamon would help, but in his mind's eye she made the last late night cable movie he watched look like a bunch of rank amateurs.

"Wood, are you alright? They got that funky freezer taste don't they..."

"No," he nearly choked. "They're the best waffles I've ever had..."

"Yeah right," she snickered.

"Okay, Eggos don't age well." He pushed the plate away catching her eye. "Jordan, while I enjoy our verbal sparing, really I do...but I think it's time we had a talk."

* * *

Okay I lied. I chopped it into two chapters to keep you all from falling asleep (and to give NCCJFAN her request.) 


	8. Leap

Okay this chapter probably should have bumped the rating up a degree but I'm too lazy to change it.

* * *

By his tone, she could tell where this conversation was heading. She waited for that inevitable strong urge to run. As edgy as she felt she was mildly surprised to realize it wasn't there. She gave him a token denial. She didn't want to sound too agreeable. She didn't want him getting to confident. 

"We never _talked_ well Woody." She said taking the plate to the sink.

"We have to try periodically...if only to keep my ego in check."

"I'm listening, "

"Then turn around and look at me."

"I can't," she said as unemotionally as she could after the day she's had.

"Can't or won't Jordan?"

"...Maybe a little of both."

Woody couldn't help but smile at her stiff back. Any other time she would have said 'can't'. She might argue the point with him, but Jordan always had the choice to turn to him. He had a feeling she was finally beginning to believe it.

"...let me help."

Silently, he stood up and reached for her cupping her shoulders in his palms and turning her into his embrace. It was quiet moments like this that kept Woody coming back for more. If he were a smart man he would have given up a long time ago. But nobody ever considered him the brightest crayon in the box. He placed his lips on the side of her head drawing in the last fate traces of the perfume she sprayed on hours ago. He couldn't count how many times he woke up in the middle of the night swearing he could smell her.

Jordan knew with out a doubt the jig was up. She couldn't run any more. She was tired of running. Tired of fighting herself. And it felt good. The resolve she felt earlier in the evening wasn't a lark. She smiled into his shoulder.

"If you knew what was good for you you'd run out of here as fast as you can."

"I'd just run back anyway. I think I'll save the trip this time."

She palmed his chin and looked into his eyes...really looked, probably for the first time ever and what she saw made her heart skip. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I was never one to take the easy way Jordan."

He waited for her rebuff.

"Good." she huskily.

Meaning to take things slowly, he buried one hand in her hair, enjoying the silky feel of the strands against his fingers.

When she still didn't run, he lowered his head, she raised hers, and he kissed her. Gently at first, testing waters that he hadn't in a very long time. It wasn't a kiss that would be immortalized. It took a few fumbling awkward moments for it to deepen. Then, just like a bicycle, it didn't take long to remember how well they could fit. Only this time the kiss was different. Slow, deep, wet. The kind of kiss a man gives a woman he wants to take her to bed...and way it would be returned if the feeling was mutual.

"Woody..." she sighed against his lips.

So used to be so close but yet so far Woody dropped one arm. He wasn't quite ready to surrender the one around her waist yet. With the blood pooled in places other than his brain, his words came out mumbled. "I probably should go."

"Hypocrite." The grin on her face tempered the word.

"What?"

"Isn't it you that is always telling me to take a leap of faith?"

"And you're the one who answers back saying: 'If you leap without looking, you could get flattened by a bus."

"Maybe I've changed. Maybe we both have." She wrapped a hand around his neck bringing his lips to hers softly. "Being with Louis made me realize that I could take that leap and believe that somebody would be there to catch me. It just took me awhile to believe that person could be you."

Woody swallowed at the sudden thickness in his throat, half afraid to accept what stared him in his face. At the same time he wanted to believe it as much as he wanted to take his next breath.

"You're telling the truth aren't you? he asked in awe.

Her smirk broke the tension of the moment. She reached for his other arm and tucked it around her waist. "Yes, and if you didn't get with the program and kiss me I could change my mind about you."

His mouth was so close to hers she could feel his smile against her lips. "Yes ma'am."

When she pulled the shirt over his head and smoothed her hands over the contours of his chest she knew after that there would be no turning back.

They left a trail of clothes to the bed and came together in a fast, furious explosion of feeling in the shadowed darkness.

He leaned his forehead weakly against hers as their heartbeats slowed and they caught their breath. He whispered that he loved her.

Jordan knew it was a start... one that had no guarantees past the morning's light and for the first time in her life she knew she could live with that.

"I love you too."

The End-


End file.
